


Lavender Tones

by chrwrites



Series: Sprint Fics [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Confident Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge, POV Luka Couffaine, i spent more time looking for colour names and their meanings than actually writing this, paint war but there isn't really a plot, the colour in the title isn't mentioned, this is me experimenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26464357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrwrites/pseuds/chrwrites
Summary: Marinette is pink. Luka is blue.But pink and blue make purple and Luka doesn't really like that colour, maybe a little help can help him change his mind...LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge prompt: "Pink and blue make purple"
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: Sprint Fics [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981153
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54
Collections: LBSCSprintFicChallenge





	Lavender Tones

**Author's Note:**

> The LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge gave me a chance to experiment with my writing and this is what came out of it.  
> It's the first time I write something like this but I'm pretty proud of the result honestly. Also, I would like to thank the members of the sprint challenge discord who helped me when I got stuck with some parts. <3  
> Enjoy :)

Pink is the colour of my first love. Pink is the colour of the lips I haven’t tasted. Pink is the colour of her cheeks when I compliment her. Pink is her kindness. Pink is her creativity. Marinette is smart and strong, beautiful and pink. She’s pink, like the most beautiful flower and the most mesmerising sunrise. Pink is the way she stands up for herself and for the people she loves. Pink is the way she taps a pencil on her sketchbook a beat too quick when I play for her. Thinking about it, she is different shades of pink. She’s bubble-gum pink when she’s happy, thulian pink when she’s sad, raspberry pink when she’s embarrassed, deep pink when she’s angry, coral pink when she’s determined to get something, shocking pink when she’s so focused on what she’s creating that she forgets about her surroundings. She’s amaranth pink when she avoids what bothers her and doesn’t want to burden people with her problems. She’s light pink when she’s serene. That’s my favourite pink on her, and that’s when she’s herself. She’s light pink only when she’s with me. I'm lucky to see it, it means that she trusts me and that she feels safe with me, that’s what I want for her. Pink is the way she scrunches her nose. Pink is the amused smile on her face now that she’s looking at me. Pink is the colour dripping from the brush she is holding in her hand, there’s pink on my cheek now as well.

I am natural blue. On most days, I am sky blue. I am sky blue when I meditate, I am sky blue when I play my guitar. I am sky blue when I write songs. I am sky blue when I listen to someone’s heart. I am sky blue when Juleka paints my nails. I am cyan when I see the people I love happy. I am electric blue when I play my songs on a stage and I’m looking for my favourite shade of pink in the crowd. But there are days where I am indigo and I wish for the world to disappear. I am indigo when I’m at my most vulnerable. I am indigo when I let myself fall and I make sure that no one can hear me crying. But I turn teal blue when I pick myself up, and I go back to sky blue as I take deep breaths when I meditate. I am turquoise when I let her in. I am turquoise when I look at her. I am turquoise when I hold her. I am aquamarine when I play her heart’s song. And I go midnight blue when I watch her walk away. I wonder how someone like me can expect to have someone like her by his side. I was indigo when I realized that I could never have her and I had to accept that I can only admire her from afar.

Pink and blue make purple. And purple is dark and gloomy, and it’s the colour mom turned when dad left us. Purple was my sister’s uneasiness before she won it over, purple is a colour I’ve learned to love when I noticed how good it looked on her. But at the same time, I wouldn’t want for Marinette and I to be purple. It would be cold and rough, not warm and soft like love is meant to be. I wish I were yellow, pink and yellow make peach, and that colour is warm and sweet like summer. It’s carefree, light and joyful, that’s how I’d imagine a relationship with her to be. She must have found her yellow already, and I shouldn’t let my hand dip into the paint bucket and stain her face with my colour. Now she’s blue, and the blackness of her hair highlights the electric colour that got tangled in some strands. I wish she was mine, but I would never let my blue take away her pink. She is pink when she gasps and her mouth drops open after the paint hits her, “You’re so gonna pay for this!” she protests, taking some pink form her own bucket and smearing it on my face again. My lips can taste pink now, but it’s metallic and salty, and I don’t think the taste of the paint matches her colour. Her pink would be sweet, like strawberries. I laugh as she gets closer, “You started it!”. Her brush is still in her hands. She’s right in front of me, and all I can see around me is pink, pink and nothing else. She is looking at me in the eyes, had they always been this shade of blue? They’re like sapphires, it’s the most beautiful view I’ve seen. I try to smile at her, but my body can’t seem to move. I can feel the blue paint in my hand is starting to dry, we should be painting the murales, that’s why we're here in the first place, what is she doing?

She is a shade of pink I’ve never seen before when she stretches on her tiptoes to get closer to my face, “You know, pink and blue make purple…” she whispers right before she presses her lips on mine. If this is a dream don’t wake me up. I can taste purple if that’s what she wants, I want to savour it, even if it’s not my favourite colour, I want to savour her. Thankfully, it doesn’t take me long to respond to her kiss, I pull her close and cup her face with my hands. Her cheeks are warm, but I wonder how they would feel like if they weren’t full of paint. The taste of the paint is fading as I feel her tongue slide into my mouth, she really tastes as sweet as strawberries, maybe it’s the lip-gloss she always wears. Everything is so perfect. And pink. And blue. I feel her smile on my lips, her hands are tangled in my hair, and I smile, too. This is too good to be true. When she pulls back, I feel dizzy. It’s like I got drunk on that gentle kiss.

She is still smiling, and her lips are a peculiar shade of purple. It’s warm and delicate, and it’s not the colour I’m used to see. She is purple now, and I am too. I bring my hand to my lips. I can’t hear what the people around us are saying. I can only see her. And she’s purple, maybe purple can be warm after all. “It’s more of a lilac, don’t you think?”, she is still smiling, what a vision.

“It suits you” leaves my lips before I pull her close for another kiss. Oh, I hope I can kiss her many more times.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would like to apologize to the colour purple for depicting it in a negative way IT WAS ONLY FOR PLOT PURPOSE ~~and also because I still remember my economic and finance professor saying that purple was appointed colour of the year in 2008 and that's when the crisis started~~ purple is a really pretty colour btw  
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://chrwrites.tumblr.com/) :)


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